2007-2010

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Stop, Drop, and Roll

So, I mentioned on the Stop Lying about Your Weight thread (among other places) that I was making my best guess at my own weight (170-180), but I haven’t stepped on a scale in ages, for the sake of my sanity. But then I started thinking, well, what if I’m underestimating my weight and therefore being part of the problem? So for the first time in a looooong time, I actually wanted to know the real number, for a good reason. Unfortunately, I still didn’t have a scale and wasn’t about to go buy one.

But today, when I took Lucille to the vet and had to weigh her, it occurred to me to ask if the doggy scale could hold a person. The answer was yes. And it turns out my pants were indeed on fire.

I think the real take home message here is that the number doesn’t really mean anything. How do you feel? Are you happy? Good – who cares what your actual weight is! Your pants fire has been contained. Now the only reason you’re on fire is because you are HOT! (Yeah, that was especially corny, but I just couldn’t resist).

Kate: now i’m curious about my own weight. I haven’t stepped on a scale in years – not because i’m afraid, but because i simply don’t own a scale. Now i’m wondering where i can try out a scale without buying one. Heh.

It’s so interesting how people carry weight differently! Right now I’ve got about 10 pounds on you (exact same height), and I looked at that picture and thought “Damn, she looks good. Wish I looked like that.”

I used to lie about my weight, only the opposite of what you’re talking about. Since I have always been really thin, and in high school… I tried to avoid the shocked gasps I’d receive if I told people I was 83 pounds at 5’3. But now I just don’t care.

Kell, ha! I’ve never been asked for an autograph, but I have heard that comparison numerous times.

The funniest one was when I was in college, and I walked into the registrar’s office wearing, like, pajama bottoms and Docs and a big sweatshirt, some shit like that. Woman behind the desk greets me with, “YOU LOOK LIKE A COUNTRY SINGER!”

Me: Buh?

Then she specified which country singer, and it was like, oh, yeah, I get that a lot. But for a minute there, it was like, “Fuck, if I look like a country singer to people, I am doing EVERYTHING WRONG.”

I had the opposite of that the other day, which was pleasant (although it should have been neutral, I guess): I was fairly certain I was around 145, based on how my pants fit. Then it turned out I was nine pounds less than that. I think it’s because of the current distribution of weight (all in my gut).

And one of my cats is around 17 lbs, and I don’t know how tall she is. However, despite her desperately small (as she thinks) rations of food (some cats cannot do the demand-feeding thing), she won’t lose an ounce, so I’m starting to wonder if she’s just a really big cat.

Heh. I haven’t signed up for yoga yet, but your site inspired me to measure my dog. She’s 20 inches high and 10 pounds. If she were a human she’d be a model and everyone would be all, “What’s your secret? How do you eat and eat and stay so thin? My god, you’re so wonderful!”

Alright, first: Rachel, sniffle sob of joy for standing up to doctors! I am well aware of how tough that is.

Second: Kate is hot. 90 pounds each? Who knew?

Third: I found this from SingOut rather sad: “I get the feeling, I just have no idea what I look like.” Wow. Instead of not knowing what other people look like, it’s what *we* look like. Unless one is mirror-less, self-appearance should not be a mystery. And we extrapolate appearances from numbers, rather than numbers from appearances. How fucked up and upside down is that?

Finally: Sweetmachine, berry cute cat. And freaking hilarious. You know, sometimes I wonder if my two fat cats are as they are because I hand-reared them, so they grew up in a food-restricted environment…

I’d be a little put out if someone said I looked like Garth Brooks. :)

It was nothing against country singers, MollyB. (And I think Mary Chapin Carpenter is hot, thankyouverymuch.) But at that point in my life, I was going for much more of an “I hate the world” punk rock vibe, so “country singer” was pretty much the opposite of what I wanted people to see when they looked at me.

But then, when I wore nothing but black in high school, my dad did always refer to it as my “Johnny Cash” phase. At the time, I was like, “GAH! Missing the point, Dad!” But now I realize it was me who was missing the point about Johnny Cash. :)

I actually had the opposite experience from Rebecca a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been refusing to be weighed at the doctor’s office and having my BP soar at the mere though of getting on the scale. After a year and a half of the FA movement, I not only have 235 on my driver’s license (which was true at the time, I lost a lot of weight when my dad died) and when I last visited the doctor, I got on the scale. I initially refused, but the nurse said that they didn’t have a weight listed, and it helps for dosages, I stood my fat, PMSing ass on the scale with my shoes on! After she weighed me (153) she took my BP – 120/80. It felt really good not to freak out at someone else’s knowing my weight. I’m back down to my standard 145, but I’m happy that I didn’t totally freak out about being officially “morbidly obese.” That was a first.

Kate217, when I got on the doggy scale the other day, I TOTALLY felt the impulse to take off my heavyish Keens and belt with a big, metal buckle. Pure habit from the days of Jenny Craig weigh-ins. I had to actually say to myself, “It does NOT MATTER if you end up with a number 2 lbs. higher than you might be if you REMOVED CLOTHING AT THE VET’S OFFICE.”

Just in case anyone was wondering if accepting your fat totally and permanently eliminates the crazy. Nope.

Back when I first saw pictures of you, in your personal history entry, I felt so cheated and disappointed. “So that’s her? The poster child of fat bloggers? Just another thin girl with body dysmorphia? Big deal for HER to accept her body.”
I could just barely restrain from writing a righteously enraged comment about that.

After your BMI project started, I finally found the courage to step on a scale after several years. I was so scared, sweating and shivering like it was a bloody Bungee jump. And I found that I’m almost exactly your size. That makes my initial feelings wrong on so many levels, I don’t even want to start on it.

So THANK YOU for encouraging me to do that, THANK YOU, for encouraging us all to broaden our minds. I hope I can offer you my photo for the BMI project in return for this experience.

I think stepping on a scale in regular intervals, and talking about your weight a lot, is a good idea. I never want to be that mortified of a simple number again!

You’re living proof that it’s possible to Do Good and Help People for every one of us, not just those with lots of cash and plane tickets to Africa.

I, too, have *no idea* what I look like. A coworker of mine recently said the following of me. “Krista is like a cat. She has no idea of her size relative to other objects.” You know how cats will face up to dogs many times their own size? I can hold up a piece of clothing, and literally have NO CLUE whether it will fit me.

Also, my kitty weighs 25.3 pounds. But I’m not getting on the kitty scale at the vet’s office.

Go you! :D
And we basically have the same boobs, by the way. Which leads me to ask…where do you buy your bras, and (if it’s not too personal), what size do you generally wear? Every single bra I own is too big around and too…small-cupped? I don’t quite know how to say it. All I know is that I would really appreciate some advice from a similarly-endowed person. :D

[…] I also hit what you call “the dreaded 2-0-0″ this year. At least, I think I did. The last time I weighed myself was on a dog scale at the vet’s office, and I was about 185 lbs. I’m pretty sure I’ve gained […]